Prisoner of Death Eaters
by Sharon Rose Black
Summary: In February of 1996, Sirius escapes from Grimmauld Place for a few hours of freedom, and is captured.
1. Chapter 1

**Genre:** General

 **Rating: M** (nudity, violence, sex, strong hurt/comfort themes)

 **Triggers:** Rape attempt.

 **Slash:** Read into it what you will.

 **Ships:** Sirius Black/OC. As always, I don't let her take over the fic, so if anybody wants

to see her as themselves, feel free.

 **Disclaimer:** Other than the two original characters, I own none of it. It all belongs to J.K. Rowling, Warner Brothers, Scholastic Books, and a number of other entities. Oh, and there's also a lyric or two by Steppenwolf.

 **Synopsis:** Sirius slips out of Grimmauld Place in February 1996 and is captured by Death Eaters.

 **A/N:** This story is the result of a dream I had at the beginning of the year that I felt I needed to get out on paper. I do "bastardize" the Death Eaters, particularly Walden Macnair, within its frameworks. However, I dearly love the actors who portray then onscreen and the people I know who cosplay them in real life. Just wanted to add that so everybody is clear.

 **Chapter 1**

Sirius knew he shouldn't leave Grimmauld Place.

Dumbledore had warned that it was far too dangerous, even if he were to slip out as Padfoot. Both the Death Eaters and the Ministry alike knew he was an unregistered animagus and were on heightened alert, waiting for any opportunity to capture him. But with every passing day this house, which he had always hated, felt more and more like Azkaban. Granted, it wasn't swarmed with dementors. Granted, he had loved ones living here with him, and friends who visited, and visited often. But even they couldn't stop the flood of painful memories that washed over him almost every day like the cold, dark waters of the North Sea. Memories he couldn't forget as long as his mother's portrait, and Kreacher, were both daily presences in his life.

Sirius knew Remus would be against the idea. So would Kia, the dark-haired, dark-eyed woman with whom he shared a tender but spicy love life. Both had been fiercely protective of him since he reentered their lives. Especially Kia, who told him almost every day that she couldn't bear to lose him again. Sirius understood-and even appreciated their feelings, but sometimes it seemed as though no one understood or appreciated his! Staying locked up inside this house, all day, every day, wasn't really an option. Not if he wanted to keep what little sanity he had left.

He desperately needed to slip away, if only for a few hours.

" _Rock me baby, rock me baby, all night long,"_ Sirius had sung softly earlier. And Kia had, at least until both were exhausted. Laying beside her now, her nude body warm against his with her head resting on his chest, he felt a twinge of guilt for leaving her. But…it wasn't strong enough to make him cancel his plan.

He wouldn't be gone long, after all, just long enough to get some fresh air and stretch his legs a bit.

Softly, he kissed her, gently untangled himself from her arms, and whispered that he would return.

He walked stealthily past Remus' room, well aware he would guess his plan if he awoke.

He crept softly past his mother's portrait, saw that the curtain was in place, then tiptoed down the stairs.

He came to the ground floor and passed the kitchen.

The door was open. Kreacher was asleep by the fire.

Slowly, he opened the front door, hoping the hinges wouldn't squeak. He eased through it, shut it, then transfigured into a big, shaggy black dog…

He was free.

And the night was young.

Sirius trotted down the street, feeling the cold mud and snow squish between his paws. The crisp winter air filled his lungs and whipped through his fur, and stars shone like diamonds in the dark, clear sky.

He wished that Moony and Prongs were at his side. Maybe someday it would happen again. After Voldemort was defeated, they could teach Harry how to become an animagus. And of course he would take the form of a stag! How could he not? Then the three of them would tear through Hogsmeade and the Forbidden Forest, creating as much mayhem in their paths as before.

No, it wouldn't be exactly the same. But it would be close…as close as it ever could be…and that, at least, was something.

Of course, none of them would miss the rat. Not in the slightest! In spite of all of Peter's arse-kissing and overt eagerness to please, he had always been more trouble than he was worth. Halloween of '81, and the people who died shortly after, had been proof enough of that.

Sirius looked up, and realized he was in Soho in front of a Chinese restaurant where he and Remus used to eat lunch together. The clock in the window read one-thirty. His instincts warned him to turn back. But a cat, and the park across the street, beckoned strongly to his canine instincts.

 _Just a little romp,_ he thought, sprinting across the street to chase the cat up a tree. He thought of Professor McGonagall, of the time he and the other Marauders had treed her in her animagus form, and wondered if she had ever realized it had been _them!_ And this cat, who was now hissing and spitting on a branch with an arched back, was also a tabby with dark markings around the eyes. He stood on his hindquarters and barked.

He didn't realize it then, but barking was his first mistake.

The wind seemed to change direction, and something felt terribly wrong. Sirius glanced to his right and saw the graceful form of a pale, slender man in expensive black robes. His silvery-blonde hair cascaded down his back in an elegant mane, and in his right hand he carried a black walking stick with a silver serpent's head and emerald eyes. Sirius recognized the man immediately. It was Lucius Malfoy. His hackles rose. Instinctively, he growled.

Growling was his second mistake. It caught Lucius' attention. Sirius could see him reach inside his robes. Sirius, having no wand, began to run…

" _HOMOPHORUS!"_ shouted Lucius.

Sirius saw a flash of blue and white light. He felt himself being lifted into the air, twisting and turning as he was forced to transfigure back into human form. He fell to the ground with a painful _thud._ He scrambled to get to his feet, and found himself looking straight into the face of Lucius Malfoy.

"Well, well, well," said Lucius smoothly, tapping the ground with his stick as Sirius backed away. "I've only known you for…how many years is it now…and was just saying today that it was only a matter of time before you slipped off your leash like the incorrigible mutt that you are!"

"Nobody keeps me on a leash!" Sirius barked, his gray eyes flashing fearlessly. "Which is more than I can say about…"

That was his third mistake. With a blinding flash and an explosion of pain, Sirius felt himself being thrown into the tree. He fell, breathless, to the ground, unable to defend himself. Lucius, and now two others, were screwing manacles around his wrists, then forcing him to his feet.

"Let's get back to the manor now, shall we?" said Lucius Malfoy. "I'm sure the Dark Lord will be…most pleased!"

With that, Lucius grabbed Sirius' arm, and Sirius felt himself being pulled through a long, narrow vacuum, straight into the drawing room of Malfoy Manor.

Sirius recognized the emaciated, dark-haired woman almost immediately. Not by her appearance, which had changed even more drastically than his own, but by her posh, baby-doll voice that had always annoyed him.

"Let's see now…what have we here?" she said, slapping her wand against her left palm as she staggered down the stairs. "Itty…bitty… _baby_ cousin! I see the years in Azkaban have _not_ been kind!"

"I still look a sight better than you!" Sirius snarled. "But I guess that hardly matters to old Viper Face."

Bellatrix's black eyes flashed dangerously. "HOW _DARE_ YOU, YOU FILTHY BLOOD TRAITOR…!"

"Calm down, Bella," Lucius admonished, thumping the floor with the end of his walking stick. "Remember who we are! We musn't forget _our_ manners simply because the family cur has forgotten his!"

"Hmmm…" Bellatrix pondered, rolling her wand back and forth between her palms. "I suppose you _are_ right! Uncle and Aunty would be _sooo_ disappointed. He should be taught a lesson… _CRUCIO!"_

Sirius had been hit by the Cruciatus Curse before, but never remembered it being this agonizing. He fell, twitching and gasping as every bone, every muscle, every nerve, every fiber of his being was set afire with a blinding pain that was intense beyond description. He felt himself screaming, and heard his cousin laughing. Then suddenly, it stopped, leaving him dizzy and very weak.

"Now, now Bellatrix," Lucius chided playfully as Sirius lay gasping. "Didn't your parents teach you _not_ to break other people's toys? He is a gift for the Dark Lord, after all."

"Ahh…" Bellatrix smiled, her eyes sparkling malevolently. "Live bait!"

Lucius nodded, and Sirius's blood froze. That could only mean one thing: they were going to use him to get to Harry.

"I'm sure he'll be most pleased…when he returns. However, at the present time he is attending to other business," Bellatrix pouted, still, toying with her wand, "and I'm bored!"

Sirius sighed quietly, hoping his body language didn't betray his relief. At least there was time.

"How long will he be gone?" asked Lucius.

"He didn't say," Bellatrix replied. "But he did say not to disturb him unless it was very important! In the meantime…what should we do with _that!"_

Sirius noticed that several other people had entered the drawing room. Bellatrix's husband Rodolphus, Lucius' long time friend, Walden Macnair, and of course Narcissa. All of them looked down upon him as if he were a mangy, flea-bitten stray who had been sprayed by a polecat.

"We'll need to make certain he does not escape," Macnair said. "Shall I call a dementor or two?"

"As I've stated before, Walden, you're always welcome here," Lucius said. "Your pets, however, are not!

"They would be under my control," Macnair said. "And if he tries to escape…"

"Not on my property, and definitely not in my house, Walden!" Lucius reiterated. "Not for any reason! Do I make myself perfectly clear?"

"Perhaps we could borrow the rodent from Severus," Narcissa suggested. "Its been awhile since _he's_ been of any use."

"Oh, how _brilliant_ Cissy!" Bellatrix sneered. "Let's make him our Secret Keeper too!"

"Do shut up, Bella!" Lucius snapped, then continued softly, "We will discuss the details over tea shortly. In the meantime, if Walden and Rodolphus would be kind enough to escort our…guest to his chambers, it would be most appreciated.

 _A/N: The reference to the Chinese restaurant in Soho comes from Warren Zevon's song:_ Werewolves of London. I recommend this song to any Potter fan, especially if you're a Lupinite.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Rodolphus gripped Sirius's left arm, and Macnair took hold of his right. Together they hauled him down a steep, stone staircase into a cold, dark cellar.

"Lumos!" said Rodolphus. As a number of torches flared, then blazed, Sirius got his first look at his surroundings.

Chains and irons decorated the left wall, and an assortment of whips were displayed on the right; a riding crop and a cat o' nine tails among them. Lucius' "babies," as Sirius recalled. He also noticed a cage, an iron maiden, and a rack that faced the stairs. Beside the rack was a table, upon which a number of medieval instruments had been placed with great care and precision.

"Remind you of something, Black?" Macnair taunted.

Sirius tried to remain calm, but the hair on the back of his neck prickled. The cellar did indeed bring back memories, of a place in the deepest bowels of Azkaban, where Macnair and five other people from the Ministry had taken him upon arrival to be "processed." He remembered, all too well, how he had fought as they had chained him to the rack, stripped him of his clothing and his pride, stretched him almost to his breaking point, and etched a number of marks into his torso with a blood quill; ostensibly for identification purposes.

The procedure had been long and agonizing, and by the time it was finally over, Sirius had been so weak that he had collapsed upon trying to stand. Of the six people present, only one had said or done anything in his defense. The rest of them had seemed only too eager to inflict any injury upon him that they legally could.

And at that time, pretty much anything was "legal," if it was said to be used against one of Voldemort's own.

"Did you hear me, Black?" Macnair persisted, tightening his grip on Sirius' arm . "I _asked_ you if this _reminded_ you of anything?"

Sirius swallowed, hoping neither his voice nor his body language would betray him. "I was just wondering…" he said as jocularly as he could muster, "Is this where Lucius brings Narcissa for playtime? Or is this where he brings _you?"_

Sirius smirked, but Macnair was not amused. His dark eyes glowered, and his black moustache bristled as he spoke:

"You'll do well to mind your tongue, Black, or you may well find yourself on the…receiving end of the games! Ye ken?"

Sirius understood, and struggled not to cringe. He remembered how Macnair had goaded him that night, predicting that he would find "comfort" in the arms of another man. Fortunately, this had never happened. He had been considered a high enough risk that the Ministry had insisted on putting him in solitary confinement, thus sparing him that one indignity. But Macnair's implication unnerved him, to say the very least.

"Walden," came a brisk voice from the top of the stairs. "Would you come here for a moment?"

Sirius looked up, and to his relief saw Lucius standing there, his walking stick in hand. Macnair released Sirius' arm, and then climbed the stairs to where Lucius awaited, his lips curved slightly upward in a tight smile. His voice was calm as he placed his hand on Macnair's arm, but his eyes were as lethal as a basilisk's. 

"Please don't misunderstand me," he whispered, and to Sirius's surprise, he could hear every word Lucius was saying. "I don't have a problem with you…tormenting the mutt, so to speak. Truthfully, I would be _very_ disappointed in you if you didn't. But…" Sirius immediately recognized the dangerous undertones in his voice, "I would be very… _offended…_ for a number of reasons, if you were _ever_ to take it to the next level. Do you… _ken…_ Walden?"

Realizing he had somehow developed the hearing of his animagus counterpart, Sirius lowered his head, hoping that the others would not realize it also.

"Why would you even _think_ that, Lucius," Macnair replied, crestfallen. "You _know_ who I love, where my loyalties lie…"

"Ah yes, I do," Lucius whispered again. "But I'm also no fool! I've watched you gaze after him for years, ever since we were in school…"

Sirius bristled, not believing his ears.

"Well," Macnair fumbled, "I only do it…only _ever_ did it to…"

"Don't insult my intelligence by _lying_ to me!" Lucius hissed, pounding the stairs with his walking stick. "I've certainly never begrudged you your little…penchant…for lack of better words! But if ever you were to act upon it _…"_

"I wouldn't, I swear to you," Macnair replied.

"Are you… _sure?"_ Lucius persisted.

"I'm _POSITIVE!"_ Macnair snapped angrily. "And how _DARE_ you talk to _ME_ about being offended! For the love of Salazar, that would be about as close to bestiality as you could get!"

There was a long silence. Then Lucius spoke again, sounding more humble than Sirius had ever known him to be:

"Forgive me, please, my oldest, my dearest friend. Of course you wouldn't betray me. I know this in my heart, but trusting people…even those closest to you...seems so much more difficult these days."

"I realize that," Macnair responded. "Of course I forgive you."

From the corner of his eye, Sirius could see them embrace. More like lovers than brothers, he thought to himself. Come to think of it, it had always seemed that way.

"Well, now that that's settled, I think we'd better see to it that our guest is comfortable," Lucius suggested. "Shall we?"

Slowly, Sirius let out his breath, although he felt sickened by what he had overheard. He had known of Macnair's cruelty for years, having both witnessed and experienced it personally, but it had never occurred to him that the man's sadism towards him was rooted in some sort of twisted, unrequited desire. He did feel reassured that, in that one regard, he was under Lucius' protection. At least to some degree.

They had chained him up and left him alone. Alone with his thoughts. Alone with his fears…

He realized now he should have tried to apparate-wand or no wand-back to Grimmauld Place when Lucius first spotted him. Granted, he might have been splinched, but Kia could have taken care of that easily-even though she would have given him a well deserved scolding. Instead, he had let himself be sucked into a battle of insults with Lucius…a mistake that had often been his downfall.

There was no possibility of apparating now. The bonds they had placed upon him were charmed to prevent him not only from that, but from transfiguring as well.

"Since you've always insisted on acting like a cur, we will treat you like one!" Lucius had said, fastening a metal collar around his neck, which he magically secured to the wall with a fairly short chain. They had then proceeded remove his boots and clasp shackles around his ankles.

He was hungry, thirsty, and cold. He hated being all three.

He was also weary. But there was no way he would be able to get comfortable enough to sleep.

And, as much as he hated to admit it to himself, he was scared.

And he hated being _that_ more than anything.

Because fear had always made him feel weak, both physically and mentally. And with so much at stake, he needed to be able to fight, or at least to think.

Remus, Kia, and of course Harry.

For them, he had to escape.

But how?

Well, thanks to his own stupid, reckless bravado, he had plenty of time to figure it out.

He had escaped from Azkaban, after all. After that, escaping from Malfoy Manor should be relatively simple.

The door at the top of the stairs open. He heard Bellatrix's cackle, and looked up in time to her toss a torn, filthy blanket to the floor.

It landed just beyond his reach.

He knew she had done this on purpose, to frustrate him. She knew how much he had grown to hate the cold, how it made his body ache with tension, how badly it cut into the very marrow of his bones. She had to know, because she and Rodolphus had been in Azkaban right along with him! 

But perhaps, without realizing it, she had done him a favor.

"Necessity is the mother of invention," Mr. Potter had always said. Perhaps it was also the mother of learning.

They had become an animagi, after all, out of necessity. And…he had done wandless magic before, although of the time it was unintentional.

But…when called upon to do it voluntarily? Well, admittedly, he had never been very good at it, and had never taken the time to fine-tune the skill.

Well, now was as good a time as any, since it was probably his only hope of getting out of here.

He focused on the blanket before him. _"Accio blanket."_ he whispered.

The blanket didn't budge.

" _Accio blanket,"_ he whispered again.

Still nothing.

" _Accio blanket."_

This time, he saw the corner twitch ever so slightly.

" _Accio blanket."_

The corner twitched a bit more.

He refused to give up, practicing long into the night. Finally, he was able to move the blanket close enough to where he could grasp it with his toes, and with a considerable amount of twisting, turning, and biting, pull it up over him.

First goal accomplished. The next would be to work on unfastening the cuffs around his wrists and his ankles.

But…right now he needed to sleep. Sleep was important, if he intended to keep up his strength.

And he would need his strength in order to escape. 

_A/N: After I saw Prisoner of Azkaban, I often wondered about Sirius' tatts. My gut feeling has always told me that they were put there involuntarily, as a means to identify him, so that's what I went with. I elaborate much more on this incident in another story._


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Sirius felt a swift, sharp kick in his right side, then bolted awake to see Rodolphus Lestrange standing over him.

"WHAT MAKES YOU THINK YOU HAVE THE RIGHT TO THAT BLANKET!" he demanded, snatching it away.

Sirius shrugged. "You threw it down here," he said, matter-of-factly. "I assumed it was all right for me to use it."

"BUT WE THREW IT OUT OF YOUR REACH…"

"You thought you did," Sirius replied, struggling to remain calm. "But I was able to reach it just fine…with my feet."

"Oh, let him have the dammed thing!" Bellatrix snapped, staggering down the stairs with a silver dog bowl in her hands, which she placed on the floor in front of him.

"I've brought you some breakfast!" she cackled, ruffling his hair. "Eat it up, now...such a good doggie… _good_ doggie!"

So…now she was feeding him dog food and was amused by her own cleverness. Admittedly, so was he, although from his perspective the humor lay in her oversight. She'd been in Azkaban herself…compared to the slop _they_ served, dog food was an absolute treat. And he knew her well enough to realize that if he played his cards right, he might have a bit of fun at her expense.

"Aren't you going to unchain me, Cousin?" he asked.

"No!" she quipped. "Eat it on all fours, like the cur that you are!"

"Enlighten me," he said sarcastically. "How can I eat it on all fours with my hands chained behind my back?"

"Hmmm…you do have a point," she drawled lazily, then she did as he asked. "Now EAT IT!" she shrieked.

She dropped her mouth in disbelief as he did exactly as she demanded.

"You…you're actually _DOING_ it?" she spat, horrified.

Sirius looked up at her. Gravy was dripping from his moustache and beard, and he was trying not to laugh at the revulsion on her face.

"I've eaten worse," he said matter-of-factly. "And so have you. I can eat rats if I have to."

With that, Bellatrix ran shrieking up the stairs. He continued to eat, while Rodolphus looked on, disgusted.

The next few days were uneventful. His captors were merciful enough to lead him out of the cellar whenever he needed to use the bathroom, because (and only because) Lucius made it very clear that he didn't want him soiling his basement. But Lucius ordered Macnair to stand watch outside the door and Rodolphus to remain inside while Sirius was conducted his business, for fear he might attempt to escape.

On the first trip, Rodolphus had stood facing him, but turned away, embarrassed, after Sirius had asked him if he wanted to watch. He continued to turn his back on him after that, much to Sirius' relief. He doubted he'd have been that lucky with Macnair.

They stopped chaining his hands behind his back, but still kept them shackled in front of him, with enough length to where he could eat and sleep. That much, at least, was an improvement.

He continuously tried to master wandless magic. He wasn't making progress as quickly as he liked, but he did win small victories, whether it was making his chains rattle a bit or making a nearby pebble skip a few inches across the stone cold floor.

He had to keep it up. He knew it was only a matter of time before Voldemort returned, and once he did, he'd be sure he'd use him to lure Harry into a trap. Sirius wasn't concerned for himself, but he was very frightened for Harry.

Those few hours of freedom had certainly come at a price. If he'd had it to do over again, would he?

No. But only because he now knew the outcome in advance. 

After about three days, he overheard the sound of keys rattling in the lock. "Just WAIT till you see!" Bellatrix cackled. "You're going to LOVE it!"

Sirius' stomach churned. He hoped it wasn't the Dark Lord. He still had too many things to master.

But it wasn't the Dark Lord. It was Snape, carrying that filthy rat Peter in a cage. Bellatrix followed, laughing insanely as she staggered behind him.

"Well well," Snape said slowly. "What have we here?"

"Caught him myself!" Bellatrix boasted, as Sirius snorted. "Well, Lucius helped…some."

"I must say you've completely outdone yourself, Bellatrix," Snape said sardonically. "Although I'm surprised Black was even brave enough to slither out of his little hidey-hole."

"At least I have a hole to slither into," Sirius retorted. "Which is more than I can say for you."

Snape's black eyes flashed and narrowed, and his sallow skin paled. "Bellatrix, why don't you take the rat upstairs and dangle him in front of Nagini?" he said. "I'd like a moment or two alone with our guest, if you don't mind."

Bellatrix was only too happy to oblige. Sirius wondered if Snape planned to curse him, kick him, or spit on him, but to his surprise, he did none of them. He simply knelt beside him, and began to speak; slowly, softly, and articulately:

"Your stupidity truly amazes me, Black! If you had any sense at all in that thick skull of yours, you'd realize that I'm probably the only person who can get you out of your little predicament! But since you don't, I think its only fair to let you know that you've completely ruined what may well have been your only chance!"

With that, Snape left, his cloak billowing behind him as he climbed the stairs.

Sirius refused to admit it, even to himself, but he had a sinking feeling Snape was right. But…he wasn't about to plead for mercy from anyone; least of all Snape.

He would still escape before Voldemort returned…one way, or another.

The hours and days drug on, and eventually a week had passed. Mulciber and Macnair took turns guarding the door to the cellar; Rodolphus and Pettigrew took turns bringing Sirius his food. Other than that, and the occasional visits to torment him, the Death Eaters left him alone.

Sirius spent most of his waking hours plotting his escape. He had tried, unsuccessfully, to free himself with wandless magic, so instead he focused on a loose, rusty nail on the cellar floor. If he could draw it near enough, he might be able to use it to pick the locks of his bonds…

But…the nail was much further away than the blanket had been, so getting it in his hands was a challenge.

" _Accio Nail,"_ he whispered, focusing his energy.

Nothing. 

" _Accio nail,"_ he whispered again.

Again, nothing.

" _Accio nail!"_

He kept on trying for several days, into the evenings and long into the nights. Finally, he felt a little surge of energy as the nail inched closer.

" _Accio nail!"_

It moved again.

" _Accio nail!"_

Finally, the nail was within his reach. Sirius grasped it and picked the locks on the shackles around his wrists and his ankles. When they were off, he went to work on the collar...

That one was a bitch! Not only because the keyhole was in back, but because every time he tried to spring the lock, the collar began to glow…then burn, like the coils on a stove. Despite the pain, Sirius wouldn't… _couldn't_ give up! Not now, not with so much at stake…

Finally, the lock snapped and the collar opened, but not before his hands, fingers, and neck were painfully blistered.

Sirius arranged the bonds in a way that would convince his captors that he was still securely chained, then sat with his back against the wall and waited. Since Rodolphus had brought his food last night, he thought that Peter would most likely bring it this morning. A good thing, really, since Peter had always been easy to fool…

Stupid rat!

Briefly, he closed his eyes, trying to conserve his energy for when he made his break. He wished he had something to cool the burns on his fingers and his neck, but that would have to wait. Perhaps this was a good thing. As long as there was pain, he wouldn't get comfortable enough to doze...which was something he could _not_ afford to do!

As predicted, Peter came at dawn. Sirius pretended to be sleeping, but watched him out of the corner of his eye. Carefully, Peter put the bowl down, and tried not to make a sound as he crept backwards…

He turned, and Sirius tackled him, wrestling his wand from his hand. Not a difficult feat.

 _"STUPIFY!"_ he shouted. Peter flew across the cellar into the stone wall, then slithered to the floor, unconscious.

Sirius snatched the key ring, gave Peter a departing kick, and flew up the stairs. He tried several keys in the lock, to no avail. Then he heard rattling on the other side of the door, and knew either Mulciber or Macnair was on to him.

He stepped backwards and shouted, " _BOMBARDA MAXIMA!"_

There was a _BLAST!-_ then a hole, and a big pile of rubbish, which rumbled as something beneath it groaned and stirred. Sirius scrambled over it and bolted to the front entrance. Upstairs, people were shouting and slamming doors…

" _BOMBARDA MAXIMA!"_

The tall, heavy doors blew down. Sirius ran, then apparated after turning his head and seeing Lucius and Rodolphus pursuing him. He got to the outskirts of London, then apparated again. He got bit further, but splinched himself, leaving a shallow crevice the width of a snitch in his right side. Bleeding and in pain, he struggled to stand…

" _STUPIFY!"_

Sirius gasped, hitting the ground. He heard shouting…loud footsteps…then the old familiar sneer:

"I must admit you've outdone yourself, Black," Lucius chuckled derisively. "You've destroyed my property and eluded my grasp, but did you honestly believe that you could escape us? That your actions would go…unpunished…when I've stressed to you on so many occasions that you simply _cannot win against the big boys…IMPERIO!"_

Sirius was unable to fight, unable to move, as Rodolphus chained his wrists behind his back. They jerked him to his feet, dug their nails into his forearms, then apparated with him back to Malfoy Manor…

Rodolphus ripped the shirt off of Sirius' back, which he used to blindfold him. Then Sirius felt himself being slammed forward into a wall and forced to his knees. He heard the clatter of metal as they removed the bonds from his wrists, raised his hands above his head, and then replaced them with another set of irons. They then shackled his ankles.

" _VENTILIBUS SURSUM!"_ Rodolphus shouted.

Sirius felt a sharp _crack_ in his shoulders and realized he was being hoisted upwards. He threw his head backwards, gritting his teeth as his chest and stomach were scraped against the abrasive stone wall. Then he heard Rodolphus call for the others…

"OH GOODY! IT'S TIME TO _PLAY!"_ Bellatrix screeched, skipping down the stairs. And then Lucius was cracking his whips, quite loudly, as if he was trying to decide which one to use…

" _RESARÉ!"_ Rodolphus shouted.

Sirius heard a _click,_ then fell to the floor. The Death Eaters descended on him like dementors, pulling him upright and again chaining his wrists behind him. He felt somebody spinning him, then heard their footsteps as they circled around him. They then engaged him in a form of blind man's bluff, but in their version, the object was for Sirius to avoid getting hit by either their whips or their spell-namely, the Cruciatus Curse. And he was expected to stay on his feet at all times…or suffer the consequences.

Sirius failed, more than once, but vowed to maintain his silence. Stubbornly, he bit his lip, a technique he had employed whenever Orion used to punish him. But Orion had never used curses, and had never hit him with anything more lethal than his own belt. The whips he could tolerate, even though they stung like scorpions as they ripped into his flesh. But the second time they hit him with the Cruciatus Curse he found he could no longer choke back his screams. By the third time, he was howling…at the top of his lungs…in anger as much as pain. It was the only release he had.

Sirius didn't remember how many times they struck him, with the whips or with the curse. But…for some strange reason, the pain was over long before they stopped.

He felt himself floating…could see them rolling him over while they poured something wet on his lacerated back. Everything faded to gray…and then finally, to black.

 _(This chapter was particularly difficult for me to write. Those of you who know how I feel about Sirius will understand why. So, you ask, why do I do it? The reason is threefold. First, I've always felt the guy went through a certain amount of hell, and because his creator won't elaborate on it, my imagination sometimes runs wild. Second, for some reason unbeknownst even to me, I feel the need to understand his pain on a deeper level, which I attempt to do through my writing. And third: as any writer knows, anytime that a plot bunny appears, whether its in a dream or whatever, the only thing you really can do is follow him down the rabbit hole, no matter where that leads you._

 _Within the next week or two, I'm going to combine the first six chapters of this fic into three chapters, since they're all particularly short. I'll post the next chapter after I edit it, which might take a week or two. This one will be much longer…and darker)._


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

 _A/N: This is the chapter your professors all warned you about. Read at your own discretion._

Slowly, Sirius started to regain consciousness. He felt something smooth against his cheek, and he also felt strangely warm. He moaned softly as the pain returned.

"I know…I know…," somebody whispered. "This should make it better."

He flinched as he felt something wet and warm being placed on his back. Whatever it was contained dittany-which he was highly allergic to-judging from its smell and the way it was already starting to irritate his skin. In the background, he could hear classical music playing. The air was heavy with jasmine incense, causing his throat to constrict and his head to throb. He coughed, then stirred, as something soft caressed his skin. 

"Ki," he whispered hoarsely.

He opened his eyes. Something wasn't right. The sheets on their bed were black, not forest green. And Kia would never have used dittany to treat his wounds, because she knew it did little for him except to break out his skin. Again, he heard a whisper:

"So beautiful…even after all those years in Azkaban. You're even more beautiful than Lucius, my frail, broken angel, and I never thought that possible."

Groggily, painfully, Sirius rolled over on his back and tried to sit up. As the blankets fell away from him, he noticed he was wearing green satin pajama bottoms. His hair was damp, and he felt cleaner than he had in a week and a half...

Then he jolted. Macnair was sitting beside him, burning into him with his eyes, reaching out to touch his cheek…

Sirius recoiled. "Where is Lucius?" he demanded.

"Away," Macnair replied. "Along with the Mistress, the Mulciber's, and the Lestranges. For the next few days, its just me, you, and the rat," he said, pointing to Pettigrew in his cage.

Sirius blinked and shook his head. His mind was foggy, and he felt very sluggish, as if he had been heavily drugged. Nothing had fully registered. At least not yet.

"Fuck me ragged!" he groaned.

It was the worst thing he could have possibly said.

"I could," Macnair said, tilting Sirius' chin and forcing him to meet his eyes. "But…you don't really want that, do you? I'd much rather…rock you…all night long."

Something exploded in Sirius' head and lit a fire in his stomach. It was the same feeling he had had before he broke out of Azkaban. He broke eye contact, but it was too late. Macnair had already extracted the information he needed from his mind.

"Yes. I know…the things she does to you… _everything_ that she does to you…" Macnair said softly. "How she touches… _where_ she touches, and how you writhe in ecstasy beneath her silken hands…"

Sirius was stunned. Did this mean what he thought it meant? The hair on the back of his neck prickled. Macnair made yet another attempt to touch his face as he drew back against the headboard.

"Give me a chance," Macnair pleaded, "to make you feel the things that _she_ makes you feel…even more intensely. I think you'll be pleasantly surprised. I would be very gentle, very… _tender_ …with you…and you may even call me by her name!"

"OH _HELL_ NO!" Sirius yelled. He bolted, but Macnair pushed him back down on the bed, straddling his legs and pinning down his arms.

"You think I'm asking permission?" he said. "I'm simply giving you a choice: either surrender yourself to me willingly, or I'll take you by force. Either way, I'm going to have you…tonight!"

Sirius lowered his eyes, pretending to accept defeat. As he'd hoped, Macnair let his guard down, and Sirius thrust his knee into his groin as hard as he could…

Macnair rolled off of Sirius, gasping and swearing. Sirius shot out of bed and grabbed a heavy bronze statue that Lucius kept on his dresser, and as Macnair struggled to rise he slammed it down across his skull. Macnair collapsed, unconscious, and Sirius kicked open the door and ran while Peter stood on his hind legs and shrieked in his cage.

He ran down the hallway and down the stairs to the foyer, deliberately upsetting everything in his path in case Macnair regained consciousness in time to follow. The front door had been repaired, and as Sirius suspected, it was locked. He attempted to kick it open, but the heavy oak wood refused to yield. He kicked it again. This time, he felt a bone in his foot snap. The door still remained shut.

Then he spotted Macnair's executioner's axe leaning against a nearby wall. Sirius grabbed it and chopped through the wood. As soon as the opening was big enough, he was outside and running…

He was barefoot, shirtless, and exhausted. The night air was cold and the ground was wet, covered with patches of ice and snow. The wind cut into his wounds and chapped the rash that was breaking out on his back, and every step he took on his broken foot sent a shockwave up his sciatic nerve. He didn't have the strength to apparate and he was about to collapse from exhaustion. What he needed was a place where he could transform into Padfoot and curl up for a bit, at least until he regained a little strength.

He remembered, having visited Malfoy Manor when he was younger, that there was a small door at the base of the house which lead to a crawlspace beneath it. He located it, transfigured, then crept inside…

He pulled the door closed with his paw as best as he could, then drug himself back into the farthest corner away from the entrance, intending to hide there only until he caught his second wind. With any luck, Macnair would not regain consciousness until he was had regained enough energy to apparate…

He closed his eyes, intending to do so for only a few moments. But exhaustion overtook him, and he slept.

Sirius didn't know how long he had been asleep, but evening had fallen when they finally found him. Macnair forced him out of his hiding spot with the Imperio curse, then he and Peter forced him to resume his human form

Macnair swore at him, calling him every foul name in the book. He struck him across the face and punched him in the stomach several times. Sirius tried to fight back, but his efforts were futile due to his weakened state. Macnair pushed him to the ground, kicking him sharply beneath the ribcage. Sirius felt several ribs crack, and felt like something had been torn open inside of him. Then Macnair forced him to his feet, and he and Peter drug him down to the cellar…

They pushed him to the ground, flipped him over on his stomach, and lifted him onto the rack. He felt the irons being clamped around his wrists and ankles, heard the chains grind, and felt every muscle in his body rip as they tightened the screws, stretching him, spread-eagle, until he his shoulders and hips popped out of their sockets.

"Now this looks familiar," Macnair said. "Except last time, you were on your back, and you were wearing much less… _weren't_ you?"

Macnair then cast the cruciatus curse on him. He would cease for a few moments, then he would cast the curse again. In between, Sirius felt no relief. He was in more agony than he'd ever been, even on that dark night in Azkaban, and he didn't think anything could be worse than that. He howled. Macnair laughed softly from deep inside his throat.

"Go ahead and scream, you sniveling coward!" he sneered coldly. "It won't do you any good! After I'm done I may even call the dementors to give you a nice, passionate kiss! Then you'll be mine to do with as I see fit, _whenever_ I see fit!"

Eventually, Sirius grew too weak to thrash about, and too hoarse to scream. He was exhausted, but still conscious, and although he shivered with cold, his entire body was on fire with fear and pain. He felt Macnair rip off what was left of his clothing; then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw him undress…

He couldn't believe this was actually happening, but he could no longer fight back or cry for help, or even beg for mercy...

Then someone yelled, "Stupify!" Sirius saw a flash of red light, then Macnair crumbled to the floor. There was another shout, another flash, and Peter also fell.

Sirius raised his head. Lucius Malfoy stood in the doorway, flanked by Rodolphus, Bellatrix, and Mulciber. He didn't know whether to be relieved or alarmed. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Sirius saw Mulciber drag Macnair over to where Peter was lying, and to Sirius' surprise, gave them both of them a swift kick. Lucius and Rodolphus knelt at either side of him, unchained him, and then Rodolphus eased him into a sitting position. Both of them were speaking to him, but Sirius couldn't distinguish their voices or understand what they were saying. But, to his shock, Rodolphus was removing his own cloak and draping it around his shoulders…

Lucius moved to Sirius' left side, Rodolphus, to his right, looping his arms over their shoulders and trying to help him stand. Sirius' hips gave way and he fell to the floor in a heap. Rodolphus tried to lift him and Sirius struggled. It didn't make any sense. Neither men had ever shown him an ounce of kindness, and he didn't trust them.

The spurt of energy he had felt suddenly waned, and again he found himself too weak to struggle. He saw both Lucius' and Rodolphus' faces above him, saw a few flashes of light, and then Lucius was lifting him, against his will, and lay him out flat on something…

And then he was being raised up in midair.

They were taking him somewhere. Wherever it was, he knew he didn't want to go there, but he was too weak to fight, his throat too raw to protest. That was the last thought he had before passing out.


End file.
